


Best Laid Plans

by SirCumference



Series: Smutshots by SirCumference [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allergies, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Bisexual Disaster Lance (Voltron), Blow Jobs, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Established Relationship, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Humor, Gay Disaster Keith (Voltron), Humor, Hunk is the real MVP, Irresponsible Drinking, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, Lance (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Lance (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Like, M/M, Men Crying, Porn With Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Romantic Fluff, Switch Keith (Voltron), Switch Lance (Voltron), This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Top Keith (Voltron), Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, a lot of plot lmao, everyone is canadian, keith is pescatarian, not sure how to tag without spoiling, they're all idiots, trust me though, wow that's a real tag that exists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24201463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirCumference/pseuds/SirCumference
Summary: They've been together for three months... maybe four? Whatever. Lance isn't great at math, but he'sdefinitelygreat at romancing. And tonight, on Valentine's day, he's going to be pulling out all the stops. They're gonna have cocktails, eat dinner, drink wine, and be in love. It's gonna be romantic asfuck. Keith's gonna die.(Plot twist: Keith doesn't die. He almost does, though.)
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Smutshots by SirCumference [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583875
Comments: 42
Kudos: 295





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> HEY! IT'S ME AGAIN!
> 
> I hope none of you thought I dropped off the face of the earth, because I most definitely did not. I've been writing this thing since early February, with the goal of posting by Valentine's day (hah, rip), but then life grabbed me by the face and threw me into a swirling vortex of unpredictable chaos and it was kind of hard to write for a while. 
> 
> When I started writing this fic, I was an employed grad student in a newly-non monogamous 7-year relationship. Now, I'm an unemployed post-grad in two relationships, living in the epicenter for COVID-19 in Canada. Life got weird, but it'll make for a good story one day. 
> 
> This fic is a sequel to Another Saturday Night, the first fic in my smutfic series. This fic also barely qualifies as a "smutfic" tbh, it's more like a short story with some sex, so you're gonna have to brace yourselves for some chaotic story-time before we get to the boning. I didn't outline this, it's not beta-read, and I wrote most of it high. I'm also really proud of it. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> [CW for allergic reactions and emetophobia. The latter is not described in detail at all and you'll know it's coming. Also recreational drug use and irresponsible drinking - be responsible, folks.]

"What doya wanna do for Valentine's day?"

Keith blinks, lids sliding over his bloodshot eyes. "Huh?"

"You know," Lance says, gesturing a little. "Like... do you want to go somewhere?"

"Why?" Keith grunts.

"Uuuuuuugh," Lance groans, sliding his hands down his face. "You're so difficult."

"No, I'm not," Keith responds, apparently unaware of the irony. Lance rolls his eyes, melting further back into the couch, his head abuzz with tingling heaviness.

"It's January," Keith adds after a minute, like his brain kind of caught up with him. "Why do you wanna talk about it now?"

"I dunno. I guess... It's our first Valentine's day as a couple, so... I wanna do something nice."

Keith pauses, considering. He worries his lip, raising one eyebrow. "Something nice, eh?"

"Yeah, like... what would you  _ really _ love to do?"

It takes him a minute, blinking and clearly deep in thought. Lance leans his head on the back of the sofa, slowly rubbing Keith's foot with his own. They're sitting on opposite ends of the couch, positioned just like the first time they... did stuff. Lance remembers that night fondly as the start of "Lance and Keith," paving the way for the nearly three months of dating they have under their belts. It's  _ wild _ — time definitely flies. It's kind of incredible.

_ Keith _ is incredible, too. Lance had known him long enough before this whole thing started, to genuinely believe he  _ knew _ Keith like he knew any of his friends. They were "buds" in the casual sense of the word, kind of like two people who happened to hang around each other long enough that their slight mutual disdain turned into a kind of affinity. And then a friendship. And then a friendship between people who live under the same roof. And through each iteration of their relationship, the two of them moved fluidly, as if everything made  _ sense _ until it brought them on this couch three months ago, where Lance realized there was a lot he  _ didn't  _ know about Keith.

He got to know those things pretty quick after their first kiss (or first dry hump, more accurately, the kissing came after). For starters, Lance learnt that Keith is a moaner — like, y'know. When he's having sex. He's fucking  _ loud _ and it's so  _ weird _ because Keith is this, broody quiet dude who will only open his mouth to talk after like, friendship level 3. Also, Keith didn't have sex often when Lance or anyone else was home, so it's not like he could have known this beforehand. But after Lance heard him that first time, canting against Lance's thigh, he knew that the sound of it wouldn't leave his head for a long fucking time.

He's heard it a lot since, heh. Cause they've been fucking. A  _ lot _ . Turns out, Lance didn't know that Keith is a master at shallow head, either — see, Keith has a shit gag reflex, but can still give a mean blowjob. That's another tidbit Lance knows he will never  _ un _ know. Even if things between them don't last, even if Lance is all old and on his deathbed, barely able to remember what Keith's face looked like, he'll still think of him and be like, "... damn. That guy was great at sucking my dick tip. "

They do other stuff too, obviously. Lance isn't the kind of boyfriend who only values sex with his partners, no way. In fact, Lance is a fucking  _ gentleman _ with Keith, cause the guy hasn't had a boyfriend since this one dude two years ago who was allergic to hand holding. It's kind of sad, really... and a little hilarious at times, 'cause Keith is so not used to someone treating him with love and tenderness. Lance doesn't think he's ever been with someone who cuddles as hard as Keith does. 

"Lance?"

His head snaps up, meeting Keith's hazy gaze. He blinks, arms feeling too heavy for his shoulder. Damn, must have zoned out. "Huh?"

"I said, why can't we just do what we're doing now?"

"What?" he squints. "Like, get high and watch YouTube videos?"

"Yeah, and then fuck." Keith punctuates the sentence by bringing his little handmade ceramic pipe to his lips, lighting the bud and taking a long, smooth inhale. Lance stares at where the flower is burning, amber-yellow embers dancing as Keith takes his hit.

Lance shakes himself, remembering that he's supposed to be lowkey arguing right now. "Wha... no!" He scowls. "We always fuckin' do that."

"So?" Keith shoots back, leaning forward to hand him the pipe. "It's nice, I like it."

Taking it into his hands and lighting up a hit of his own, Lance leans against the couch. "I'm flattered." He looks at Keith pointedly. "But I wanna do something  _ nice. _ I want it to be special."

"Ugh. Why?"

He exhales the smoke, exasperated. "Because I love you,  _ stupid _ ."

Keith scrunches up his face, all petulant and cute. He looks away, cheeks faintly red. "... You're stupid," he mumbles almost too low to hear.

Holy fuck. Lance has the cutest goddamn tattooed post-emo boyfriend ever.

"Wha — " is all Lance can make out form what Keith says as he surges himself forward to smother Keith in a giant cuddle, hitting his chest with an " _ oof _ ." He's on top of him, suddenly, arms wrapped around his torso, Lance's face in Keith's neck, all smiling and nuzzly. He chuckles slightly, squeezing Keith tight.

"You're so cute and I love you so much you make me stupid."

" _ Lance,"  _ Keith whines, attempting to bury his face in the couch's armrest. "Stop."

"Never." They stay like that a while, an undulating heaviness setting itself over Lance's limbs, pressing him further into Keith's torso. His hair is being carded through, he realizes. Keith's slowly playing with the hair at his nape, free arm wrapped around Lance's shoulders.

They're watching some guy analyze an anime that Keith loves and Lance has never heard of. See, as much as Keith would hate to admit it, he's a giant weeb. It's another thing on that list of things Lance both A. finds hilarious, and B. loves about his boyfriend.

"I'm gonna give you the best Valentine's day ever, baby."

"Don't call me baby," Keith mumbles. When Lance glances up at him, he's pink as a peach.  _ Nice. _ What a dork.

Lance doesn’t call him baby again. Instead, he leans up and gives him a quick peck on his cheek, then once again on his neck. He relaxes back into their mutual embrace a second later, savouring the warm feel of Keith's chest, lungs and heart pumping inside him.

"Seriously, Keith. Whatever you want, let's do it. As long as it's different than what we usually do."

Keith sighs, worrying his lip. He's pensive a moment, eyes half-lidded in what Lance  _ thinks _ is genuine consideration. After a second, his eyes light up a little. "Uh, howabout dinner?"

Lance perks up. "You wanna go out for dinner?"

"No, I don't want to go out. I hate people." Keith says. Fair enough. They both work service jobs and hate people. "We can have dinner in, though. Cook and then drink a bit.  _ Then _ we could get high and have a snack. And no YouTube videos."

It may not sound like much, especially given Lance's insistence on doing something  _ nice _ and  _ romantic _ . But it definitely gives him a  _ lot _ to work with. He's gonna give Keith the best Valentine's day he could ask for.

. . .

Hunk planned everything, obviously. While Lance  _ may _ be the best boyfriend ever, he's also keenly aware of his own shortcomings. In fact, Lance would argue that he's being extra considerate by outsourcing the meal plan and tentative evening schedule to someone who is much better at it. 

First, Lance is going to make Negronis. He didn't know what a Negroni was until about 2 hours before Keith was scheduled to get home, but now that he's got a solid 20 mins of Hunk's cocktail coaching under his belt, he's feeling pretty good about himself, thank you very much. Hunk also suggested they eat something "rustic, classic, yet simple." After Lance stared at him blankly, Hunk sighed and offered up some of the handmade pasta he'd prepped and froze last month. He gave Lance a crash course on searing scallops and making sauce from scratch, while they baked some sticky toffee pudding.

Hunk also showed him how to use a wine corker thingy. Lance has always feared corked bottles like the plague, too scared to risk crumbling the cork on accident, getting it stuck inside the bottle, or shooting it out and hitting someone or something valuable. After expressing this, Hunk called him a dumbass and proceeded to do the Titanic thing, where he held Lance's arms from behind and guided him, teaching him to use the corker. It was  _ very _ bromantic and pretty helpful, actually.

They set everything up all nice — an actual  _ table cloth _ on the dining table, a couple scentless candles lit around the room (Keith hates smells, he's super weird), a beautiful place setting of the nice stone plates Hunk had received for christmas from his aunt, and the fancy cutlery Lance's mom pawned off on him when he moved out. They have  _ cloth _ napkins, folded all nice and dainty, right beside the very fancy-looking IKEA wine glasses they rarely take out.

Surveying the scene, Lance's heart quickens. It's... really beautiful, actually, as if they'd transformed their dinky old apartment with paper thin walls and an occasional mouse problem into something vaguely classy and... dare he say,  _ romantic _ . Kosmo is staying at Keith's mom's, and Blue is out spending her Valentine's day evening with her cat-girlfriend Scooby-doo from next door, so there won't be anyone — human, or animal — around to interrupt.

Hunk chuckles lightly, massaging Lance's shoulders from behind as they gaze all proud and soft at the little dinner set up. "It looks so good, dude, you did it!"

"You did, like, 90% of the work," Lance responds, cupping a hand over Hunk's on his shoulder, squeezing it.

"Consider it my Valentine's day gift to you and Keith. You guys deserve it."

"Awww," Lance sighs, turning to embrace Hunk in a bear hug. "You're the best, dude. I love you so much."

"I love you too, man," Hunk laughs, squeezing him around the middle.

Hunk heads out after that, but not before reassuring Lance somewhere between one and ten times that there's nothing left for him to fuck up, that the dinner is delicious and perfect, and that Keith's going to absolutely love everything. It eases his nerves a little, though Lance still finds himself brimming with energy and anticipation as the clock ticks down to when Keith is set to arrive. He putters around, wiping down the bathroom mirror despite having deep cleaned the entire room hours beforehand, and waits to hear from Keith.

Once he gets a twenty-minute warning, Lance gets to work.

He opens the back door, grabbing a bottle of white wine from the pile of snow it's been chilling in. Next, he ensures the water on the stove is boiling before tossing in the little bird's nests of frozen fettuccine Hunk so graciously provided. The pasta cooks quickly while Lance heats up some olive oil and butter in a skillet, tossing in the garlic Hunk minced for him earlier. 

After a minute, however, Lance swears under his breath. He quickly realizes it was

  1. Saute the garlic
  2. Throw the wine in
  3. THEN cook the pasta



_ Fuck.  _ Okay, Lance figures he'll just keep the pasta aside until the sauce is ready. Sure, Hunk had  _ said _ it's best when it goes straight from water to sauce, but... Lance isn't Hunk. He doesn't have four solid years of professional cooking experience under his belt. He can improvise. 

Lance pours himself a glass of wine right before he adds some to the pan, stirring the mixture with one hand, and sipping with the other. Now that Hunk is gone, and Lance is all alone without moral support, that familiar swirling ball of apprehension starts twisting in his gut. He pours himself a  _ little _ more wine, figuring why the hell not. It's 'cheap but okay' wine, since Lance spent most of this week's grocery budget on the bottle they'll be drinking at the table.

Thing is, Lance knows his jitters are coming from the ADHD and a history of comorbid anxiety that grew steadily worse in young adulthood and (thankfully) plateaued a little since moving out. He knows he starts  _ feeling _ anxious because sometimes his brain hates him, and not because he actually has something he should be worrying about. Lance  _ knows _ he knows how to cook the dinner, how to make the drinks, how to open the wine, and lastly, how to make Keith swoon. On paper, he pretty much has this entire night in the bag. But something is still gnawing at the back of his mind, chanting a faint " _ Danger! _ " as he grabs the quarter cup of parmesan cheese Hunk blended for him.

He sprinkles it into the pan, shuffling from foot to foot in a feeble attempt to calm his nerves. Unfortunately, however, that annoying twang of anxiety is starting to grow into something  _ more  _ — as in, it found something to latch onto and make Lance's thoughts spiral. Suddenly, he's a little worried that Keith won't actually enjoy the night Lance (or Hunk, rather) planned out for him.

_ Which is crazy _ , Lance reminds himself. Everything is going to be beautiful, and they're going to have a  _ magical _ night. He finishes his glass of wine, pouring a tiny last sip into the cup before putting the wine away in the fridge, figuring he should wait for Keith before getting sloshed. 

After all, there are some things that Hunk didn’t actually plan for them. After dinner, Lance is thinking they might chat a little more, maybe finish off their wine, and then  _ maybe _ make out a little. If Keith’s in the mood, Lance would  _ definitely  _ not mind taking things to his bedroom where he’d be ravishing Keith with all the pent-up affectionate energy he’s been harbouring all week. Keith can be a little bossy in bed — he tends to want things  _ now _ and absolutely hates teasing, but Lance is determined to change things around. This time, he wants to let Keith take a seat back and do absolutely nothing while Lance makes him feel incredible. It’s what he deserves, and Lance is more than happy to give it to him. 

Once the scallops are seared and the sauce is assembled, Lance throws everything — fettuccine, scallops, extra parm — into the skillet. He tosses it around, inhaling deeply at the gorgeous aroma he created all by himself (with Hunk's help).

Lance hears Keith's steps coming up the back stairwell, just in the nick of time. Thanks to all the planning and rehearsing, he managed to finish dinner in  _ exactly  _ twenty minutes, the travel distance between the piercing shop Keith works at and their apartment two boroughs away. He turns the heat off, setting the skillet aside to sprinkle some italian parsley. He brushes his hands together, wipes them on the kitchen towel, and turns to open the back door.

Keith's standing there in his beanie and winter puffer, one arm outstretched as if getting ready to turn the knob. He jumps as Lance greets him.  _ Goddamnit _ , Lance thinks.  _ What a complete dork _ .

"Hey babe," Lance greets, leaning against the doorframe.

"Hey Lance," Keith deadpans.  _ Oh my god _ , Lance loves him so much.

Next thing he knows, he's kissing Keith and pulling him into the house, nearly tripping him on the way in.

"I love — "  _ smooch _ " — so fuck — "  _ smooch _ " — ing much — "

"Mmf, love you too," Keith mumbles against his mouth.  _ Fuck _ . Hearing Keith say it still gets him, despite how they've been saying it regularly for a couple months, now.

They kiss a little more, Lance laughing a little as he squishes the sides of Keith's face, smooshing his cheeks in slightly and kissing him again. Keith scrunches up his nose, twisting his mouth into a smirk as he steps back to shake off the snow accumulated on his head. Lance gives him space, opting instead to pull two chilled glasses from the freezer, plunking a couple ice cubes in each.

Keith eyes the stove as he takes off his coat. "What's that?"

"Dinner!" Lance grins, setting the glasses onto the counter. He grabs a jigger and starts distributing equal parts campari, gin, and vermouth into each. "I made some pasta with this wine sauce, dessert is in the oven, and I have something for you to drink while I plate up." He turns to Keith, one cocktail in each hand, and raises an eyebrow. "Negroni?"

Keith smooths his hair back, jacket in hand as he walks over to the stove, a slowly growing lopsided smile on his face. Lance swells a little at that.

"Thanks," Keith says, grabbing one and clinking it with Lance's. He takes a sip, eyeing the food. "Looks amazing."

"That's ‘cause it is,'' Lance boasts, a hand on the back of Keith's neck, kneading it. He lets go to grab a couple plates, and then the meat stabby thing Hunk told him to use to plate the pasta. He notices Keith survey the room, idly sipping on his Negroni once more.

Keith sees the table next. He lets out a low whistle, lopsided grin growing ever so slightly. "Damn. This is... really nice."

Lance might just melt into a puddle.

"Thank you," Lance replies, easy. He smirks, smacking Keith's bum lightly as he walks over. "I did it all because I'm gay and I love you."

Keith turns his head to the side, leveling Lance's gaze for one, two seconds longer than normal.

"Hunk did it, eh?"

"WHA — fuck you, Keith! No he did  _ not  _ do all of it."

"He did some of it then?" Keith laughs, looking like a  _ complete _ smarmy bastard.  _ Ugh _ . Lance fucking hates him.

"I — uugh, okay," he sighs, running a hand down his face. "Okay fine, yeah, Hunk basically coached me. I was the idea guy but he was the... execution guy."

"Oh?" Keith chirps, tilting his head. "So the Negronis were...  _ your _ idea?"

Suddenly, Lance's face feels quite warm.

"I mean — "

"The fancy pasta?" Keith adds, pursing his lips. "You'd totally come up with that."

"Hey —"

"I'll make sure to thank Hunk for such a lovely evening — "

"Okay, hotshot, the fucking sticky toffee pudding was my idea. Hunk filled in the blanks — "

"I love it," Keith interrupts, slinking his free arm around Lance's waist, hand cupping his ass. Lance's breath does  _ not _ hitch. "It's great, and I love you."

"Keith, stop being gross." He smirks, leaning in for another kiss, the small ball of tension in his chest finally dissipating. 

They drink the Negronis as Lance preps their plates, idly chatting about Keith's workday. Turns out, a  _ lot  _ of people get pierced on Valentine's day. Keith gave two women matching clitoral hood piercings (which  _ would _ be kind of hot if it didn't sound so clinical), one couple got matching nipple piercings, and another lady came for a walk-in with her best friend as a "galentine's day" treat.

"I ship them," Lance announces, as soon as Keith's done his sentence.

" _ Ugh _ ," Keith groans, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Stop shipping clients, it's weird."

Once all the food is plated — two nests of beautifully twisted fettuccine with creamy white wine sauce, seared scallops, and fresh herbs — they make their way to the dining table, leaving only the kitchen light on for mood lighting purposes. Lance pours two glasses of wine, making a show of doing the little spinny thing that waiters do and still managing to let some dribble on the table, while Keith snorts at him and tells him he's cute. It's  _ perfect _ .

"Cheers?" Lance offers his glass, grinning.

"Cheers." Keith raises his own. "To Hunk."

Lance nods. "To Hunk!"

They clink their glasses together.

"What did you do today?" Keith asks, digging into his food.

"Mostly just learned how to cook. Hunk tried to get some ideas out of me for the meal, but I had no fucking clue what to do." He takes a bite of his own, savouring it. " _ Fuck. _ A bit cold, but  _ shit _ that's good."

"Imf's reflly gfud," Keith nods, chewing. He smiles at Lance with his mouth full, and Lance's heart skips a beat at the sight. Keith's wearing an oversized black hoodie with white Korean characters running down the sleeves, hair tied back in a messy bun, illuminated by mostly candlelight and the faint glow from the kitchen. His inked hand grips his glass before bringing it to his mouth for a sip, and Lance can't help but feel incredibly lucky that  _ this _ is the person he gets to be with.

Growing up, when he daydreamed about future partners, he always pictured a tanned, long-haired woman with impeccable taste in clothing. He thought he might end up with a girl with a similar background to his own, raised in a second-gen immigrant household and fluent in her family's native tongue. He pictured someone funny, kind, and especially good with animals, who could make Lance laugh even in the darkest of times.

Turns out, his dream person didn't exist. Because they never do. But he  _ did _ end up meeting someone really special eventually — and fell in love with them only about five or six years later. Keith's not a tanned woman — but he  _ does  _ have long hair. He has  _ okay _ taste in clothing, but Lance wouldn't trust him to dress himself at an event with a dress code. He was raised in a half third-gen immigrant household, but he's definitely  _ not _ fluent in Korean. He's okay at it, but it's hard to practice when your only living Korean relative isn't all that great at it either. But Keith is definitely funny, and he's the kindest person Lance has ever met ( _ yes,  _ Hunk included. Hunk can be a real hardass when he wants to be, but Keith would crumble at the prospect). And most of all, he makes Lance laugh like no one else — he could be verging on a panic attack, and Keith would  _ still _ say something to make him smile.

So really, Keith's not all that much like the person of his dreams. But that's alright, because he's better. And he's real.

_ Fuck _ . Lance is so glad he figured out he's bi. Took him long enough.

"You're quiet," Keith notes, raising an eyebrow.

Lance smiles. "I'm just distracted by how much I love you."

"Fuck off," is all he gets in return, Keith rolling his eyes like Lance said something particularly off the wall. He doesn't miss the way Keith's lip quirks at little.

"Extra parm?" he offers, changing the subject. He doesn't want to make Keith combust just yet — they have a whole evening to themselves, after all. He's gonna draw it out.

"Nah, thanks," Keith replies casually. "I don't eat parm."

Lance blinks, his hand freezing over the bowl of pulverized cheese. "... Huh?"

"It's not vegetarian, they make it with rennet."

...  _ Oh. _

Well  _ FUCK. _

"UUUUH," Lance spews, sweating. His eyes  _ might _ be bulging out of their sockets, but he can't really tell. "I, uh, I used parm in the sauce, Keith."

Keith blinks up at him. To his credit, he doesn't seem all that fazed. "Oh?"

"It's white wine, pasta water, and parm."

"Oh..." Keith looks at his place. After one agonizing, drawing-out moment, he shrugs. "Whatever, it's cool. I'll finish it."

Lance's fork clatters to the table. "I'm so sorry — "

"It's fine," Keith insists, vaguely amused apparently. "I already ate some of it, and I don't want to waste. I'll eat it, it's cool." He smiles a little softer, kicking Lance's foot under the table. "Seriously, don't worry about it. It's not the end of the world."

He relaxes a little, nodding and taking a sip of his wine.  _ Phew _ , okay. Crisis averted. He tops up their wine glasses before digging back in.

It sort of creeps up on him, but Lance is vaguely aware that he might be feeling a little... tipsy. Once he thinks about it longer than two seconds, he supposes it kind of makes sense — he hasn't really eaten a real meal since breakfast (the three scallops he and Hunk seared don't really count), and he's one Negroni and an indeterminate amount of white wine deep. It's fine though, he reasons to himself. They're at home, and it's just the two of them, and it's not like he's at all drunk. His speech and judgement doesn't seem to be affected in any way.

"Hey," Keith says, taking him out of his head. When he raises his head, it feels  _ slightly _ heavier than usual.

"Huh?"

"What are these?" Keith asks curiously, holding up a half-eaten scallop. His free hand raises to scratch at the back of his neck.

_ Huh? _ Has Keith seriously never seen a scallop before? Must Lance teach him  _ everything  _ about fine dining?

He doesn't get to answer though. Lance's mouth only opens before Keith sneezes into the crook of his elbow. Then, the sneeze turns to a wheeze, and the wheeze turns into a hack.

Keith sets his fork down in his plate, blinking back tears and heaving breaths. A weight drops in the pit of Lance's stomach the second his face is fully visible, because suddenly, not a single hint of Keith's adorable, casual demeanor is apparent on his face.

"Uh, they're scallops," Lance replies belatedly, staring at Keith's face. It's not all that obvious from the lighting, but he's looking a  _ little _ flushed.

Keith snaps his gaze to Lance, eyes wide. He opens his mouth, breathing heavy. " _... Fuck _ ."

"WHAT?" Lance yells, panic mounting in his throat.

"I'm allergic to shell — " is all Keith manages, before getting interrupted by a fit of wheezes once again.

Lance's cutlery clatters into his plate, hands shooting up to dig themselves in his hair. He stares, eyes bulging and throat dry as Keith starts hacking up a lung, this time unable to make the effort to block his mouth.

"ARE YOU DYING?!" Lance yells, like a fucking  _ idiot _ . You know what? No, he's allowed to freak out right now. He  _ may _ have just murdered his boyfriend in cold blood on fucking  _ Valentine's day _ .

"G - get my pen," Keith grits out between coughs. "My room. Backpack. Front pocket."

He shoots up from his seat, beelining for Keith's room. He practically lunges for the black backpack at the foot of his bed, hands shaking as barely manages to wiggle the front zipper open. Sure enough, a bright yellow epipen is sitting there as if that's where it  _ belongs _ , as if this entire time Keith's had a fucking  _ life threatening allergy _ that he's never told Lance about.

Thankfully, Lance has used one of these before back when he worked at a summer camp. He runs over to Keith and quickly clicks it into his thigh, legs giving out underneath him. He just kneels there, staring up at his boyfriend's now-visibly blotchy face, watching him catch his breath.

It takes a minute (the longest fucking minute of Lance's life), but eventually, he's breathing normal again. His face looks more normal-coloured. He's still scratching at the nape of his neck, but there's no wheezing or hacking. If anything, the only thing obviously amiss is that Keith looks fucking  _ exhausted _ .

"Thanks," he says, finally.

Lance blinks, the anxiety in his chest slowly twisting, evolving into something...  _ worse. _

"WHAT THE FUCK?" He yells, shaking Keith's knees. "I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE ALLERGIC!"

"I probably forgot to tell you," Keith breathes, blinking at his lap. "It doesn't come up often."

"WHA — HOW CAN IT JUST NOT COME UP?!"

"When the fuck do we ever eat shellfish?"

"RIGHT NOW, APPARENTLY!"

"I'm sorry," Keith interjects, holding Lance's hand on his thigh. He worries his lip, making forceful eye contact. "I'm  _ really _ sorry, Lance. I'll argue with you about this later, but I need to go to the hospital, like... now."

Well _.  _

_ Great.  _

. . .

They're back home by 9ish, which isn't  _ terrible _ but it's... obviously not great, as far as Valentine's day plans go. Lance called an Uber to the closest emergency room five minutes away. He then packed a pillow and Keith's old stuffed hippo from his childhood that he still keeps on his bed. He only stayed angry for maybe... ten minutes max before the guilt started to eat away at him and overpower any anger he had left.

Because what kind of boyfriend sends his partner to the fucking  _ emergency room _ on Valentine's day? Lance could have literally avoided this by asking Keith point blank what he'd like to eat, or what he'd definitely  _ not  _ want to eat. Or maybe just by getting to know more about Keith in general — maybe he actually  _ hasn't _ been doing that. Three months is both a while and not long at all, apparently not enough to get to know everything important about a person. It's a little tough to swallow, but... Lance supposes the truth always is.

"Hey," Keith starts, nudging him in the shoulder as they walk through the front door. "Stop feeling shitty."

Great. Apparently Keith can read his mind now, while Lance can't even get a single dinner right.

"Seriously," Keith adds, turning on his heel to face him. He's got the hippo under one arm and a hardened expression on his face as he pins Lance with his gaze. "Don't feel bad. It's my fault I didn't tell you."

"I should have asked," Lance grumbles, averting his gaze and kicking off his shoes. "But whatever."

"No." The next second, a soft hand is resting on his jaw, guiding his face up to Keith's once again. He holds Lance's face in place, looking all adorable and pouty like he always does when he's trying to be serious. If anything, he's cute enough to give Lance's piss poor mood a little jolt. Just a tad.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Talk to me."

Lance sighs, scrunching up his brows. "I wanted tonight to be special — "

"It  _ is _ special," Keith insists, smirking. "It's a good story, at least."

"I'm not ready to laugh about it, yet."

"Okay. That's okay." Keith kisses him, thumb grazing at his jaw. He pulls back, blinking his eyes a little wider. "Wanna order food? Have some wine?"

Lance huffs out something almost like a laugh, unable to remain mostly grumpy. Sue him, Keith's kisses kind of do that to him. Could be worse. "Sure. Okay."

The doctor they saw told them Keith was clear to have a glass of wine, but shouldn't get fully inebriated in case he has another attack and needs to go back. They order some delivery pizza despite the restaurant being within walking distance, out of mutual refusal to go outside again tonight.

With the candles blown out and the half-eaten meal on the dinner table, their whole common room is kind of a sad reminder of Lance's failed plans. But... Keith's insisting it's okay, and Lance has got to trust him. The night's not over yet, and they can still have a great time. The entire night's events can be put behind them.

"How many times have you been to the emergency room?" Lance asks the second they sit on the couch, apparently  _ not _ keen on forgetting everything that happened.

Keith purses his lips, considering. He takes a sip of wine. "Uhh, six? Maybe five — "

"WHAT?" Lance gapes, blinking back his shock. "HOW?"

"I did dumb shit," Keith responds, shrugging. As if that explains everything.

"Like... what kind of dumb shit?"

"I ate scallops, today — "

"Okay, fuck you — "

"Hit a car on my bike when I was like, fourteen," Keith continues, counting on his fingers. "And again when I was eighteen."

Lance nods. "That sucks, but... that's partially the driver's fault, no?"

"I was biking against traffic the first time," Keith adds. "And the second time, the car was parked."

"... Wow."

"When I was, like... eight? I got a tic tac stuck up my nose."

"That's... that's so stupid."

Keith chuckles, looking almost proud of himself.  _ Wow _ , what an  _ idiot _ . "Yeah, I know."

"What els — "

"Broke my arm when I was twenty-one after I jumped off my mom's balcony into a snowbank."

"Uh — "

"A couple years ago, I got a buttplug stuck in my ass — "

"WHAT?"

Keith shrugs. “Not my fault. Bad design.”

“WH —”

“Got a refund,” he adds, taking another sip. “And a free prostate massager.”

"That's — " Lance's eye twitches, mouth quivering a little. "How is that worth it?"

His boyfriend shrugs again, grinning. "Free is free."

_ Holy Shit. _ How the hell did Lance end up with such a... cool idiot? Of all people?

"Fuckin' hell, Keith," he giggles, finally, barely able to take another sip of wine without spilling. "You're  _ insane _ ."

"You love it," he retorts, raising an eyebrow and biting his lower lip.  _ Fuuuuuck _ , Lance is such a goner. His idiot boyfriend is as hot as he is stupid.

"Shut the fuck up," he manages, barely stifled chuckles rising out of his chest once again. Somehow, after a couple playful shoves, their legs end up tangled together, dangling off the couch. Lance smiles at Keith, eyes lidded and mouth probably lopsided. His face is feeling kind of heavy from what is  _ likely _ a combination of alcohol and lust. 

You know what? Regardless of how the night went, Lance has literally no reason to complain about it. It brought him right here, after all.

"What're you doing?" Keith says, smiling back. He drags a hand over to graze lance's forearm, thumb kneading in circles. "You look funny."

"I  _ love _ you.  _ So much _ ." He says it with what he hopes is undeniable sincerity, intonation slow and deliberate. "You're  _ perfect _ ."

Keith blushes, scrunching his face at his lap. "I'm not perfect — "

"Of course not," Lance laughs. "You're perfect to me."

It doesn't take long for Keith to lose it. He groans, turning to bury himself in the couch cushions, clutching his wine glass to his chest. Lance  _ loves _ when he gets like this, but it feels especially rewarding today of all days. Allergic reaction and spontaneous hospital visit included.

"Hey," he mutters, trying to turn Keith's face towards him by way of his neck and jaw.

" _ Fuck _ , Lance," Keith exhales, blinking back what looks like a light amount of moisture in his eyes. "You're such... ugh."

"Such  _ what _ ?" Lance replies, smirking. But as Keith gets up to answer, worrying his lip, Lance feels a strange sensation in his gut. He swallows, shifting slightly to avoid putting pressure on his stomach, where a storm seems to be brewing.

"I didn't..." Keith starts, interrupting his train of thought. " _ Fuck _ , I never thought I'd have this."

Lance blinks. "What?"

"I never thought I'd have like..." Keith trails off, gesturing. "I dunno, like  _ this _ .  _ Us _ . I never thought I'd have someone like you."

It's incredibly sweet. Saccharine, in fact. But Lance can't bring himself to say anything over the rising, unmistakable sick feeling at the back of his throat. Suddenly, it becomes clear to him just how little he's eaten since... breakfast, really. He then thinks about the unknown amount of alcohol he's consumed tonight, as well. All mixed together.

"I think what I'm trying to say is — "

_ Oh god, _ Lance. Pull it together. This is a "moment."

Keith blinks, eyelashes fluttering as he brings his gaze up to Lance's, a bashful smile on his face. "I love you  _ so much _ , Lance. You're my favourite person I've ever met."

_ Shit. Shit shit fuck fuck. _

"Keith — " he pants, chest heaving once. "I think I'm gonna be sick _." _

And after only a short, clumsy stumble over to the bathroom... he is.

. . .

"It's okay," Keith insists, for probably the two-hundredth time in the past three minutes. He leans his head against the porcelain of the bathroom wall, crossed legs shifting under him. "I'm not mad, it's fine."

"I RUINED VALENTINE'S DAY!" Lance yells into the toilet bowl, hands gripping its sides. "FUCK!"

"You didn't ruin Valentine's day _ ,"  _ Keith insists, all shreds of amusement gone from his voice. He was laughing at first before realizing Lance was  _ actually _ feeling pretty distraught.

Sue him, okay? He had all these  _ plans _ , and now they're worth absolutely nothing. Lance couldn't do dinner right, he couldn't do drinking right, and now he's made them  _ both _ ill in the span of a few hours.

"Hey guys!" a chipper voice greets from the other room. They hear footsteps growing louder as Hunk enters the apartment, door slamming behind him. "A pizza guy was trying to get into our apartment, what's — "

He stops in the open doorway of the bathroom, eyes wide and blinking at the scene in front of him: Lance, probably pale and clammy as all hell, holding onto the toilet bowl for dear life with Keith sitting on the ground next to him, arms crossed.

Hunk gapes. "Okay, what the  _ fuck  _ happened?"

" _ Keith's  _ allergic to  _ scallops _ ," Lance sneers, staring at the underside of the toilet lid. "And I'm  _ drunk _ ."

"Oh!" Hunk gasps, bringing a hand over his mouth. "I poisoned Keith?"

Keith scowls. "Not you too — "

"Oh my god — "

"Hunk, it's fine!" he all but yells. "I'm fine! We went to the hospital, and — "

"YOU WENT TO THE  _ HOSPITAL? _ "

"It's fine! I'm okay!"

"I almost killed Keith," Lance chokes out, sniffling back tears. "And then I got myself sick."

Hunk sinks to the ground with them, looking so incredibly  _ distraught _ that Lance can't help but start crying, his best friend wrapping him in a hug. Keith looks utterly impatient, though, his crossed arms tensing around his front. And  _ he's _ the one who almost died!  _ He  _ should be distraught too!

"No,  _ I  _ almost killed Keith," Hunk adds, sniffling. "It was my idea — "

"Okay, stop. Both of you."

Keith gets up and towers over them, all dark and looming. Lance shudders, cozying up closer to Hunk's embrace as he stares up with wide eyes.

"I'm not letting you feel like shit over this. Hunk, I already spoke to Lance about this, but I go to the emergency room all the time, it's not a big deal."

Hunk squawks. "That doesn't make me feel better!"

"I'm fine! I'm probably not gonna die! And so what if you puked, Lance? Happens to the best of us."

"I  _ puked _ when you told me you  _ loved me _ — "

"This is the best Valentine's day of my life!"

The silence that falls over the room is deafening, both floor dwellers staring up at Keith completely stunned. Keith's chest heaves, brow furrowing before he takes a deep breath to gear up for... whatever it is he's gearing up for.

"I've never had a partner do anything for me on Valentine's day. Randy thought it was still January when I gave him chocolates."

"In fairness," Lance quips, making a feeble attempt to suppress a whimper. "Randy sucked."

"Yes! Yes he did! He was an asshole! But now I'm with you, and I'm  _ so _ happy with you, I don't give a shit if you fucked up dinner or drank too much, or whatever. I  _ love _ you, and I'm going to be thinking about today for the rest of my life."

Lance shuts his mouth, tight. He blinks, a sudden heaviness in his chest. "You... you mean that?"

"Oh my  _ god _ ," Hunk chokes, eyes brimming with tears. "Oh my god, I'm so happy for you guys — "

"Just... get off the fucking floor," Keith grunts, clearly trying to keep a lid on his own emotional responses, too. "Clean yourselves up and... let's just eat pizza and chill. Hunk, you should join, too."

Lance nods, at a complete loss for words. He gets up, a little unsteady and stands in front of Keith, eyeing his feet. Keith reaches over for his jaw, grazing it and turning his head up. He smiles, eyes bright as they always are, hair falling in them just enough to look really effortless.

"Okay," he manages, easing into a small smile. Keith smiles back, gives him a peck on the lips.

"Brush your teeth."

"Okay," Lance chuckles again. He helps Hunk off the floor, and they do end up freshening up. They clear up the kitchen and common area too as a team, and settle in on the couch and papasan with an open pizza on the coffee table and tall glasses of cold water, settling into easy conversation as they relay the night's events to an extremely enraptured Hunk. And you know what? It's  _ perfect _ . It's everything Lance didn't know he wanted — just an easy, comfortable time, Keith settled comfortably between his legs, one hand stroking Lance's thigh, one putting pizza into his own mouth.

Hunk doesn't linger, though. He's got an early shift, and they say their goodnights after polishing off the pizza. They sort of just stay on the couch a while, half silent and half mildly chatty, poking around at their phones as Keith sits between Lance's legs, encased in a four-limb embrace. It's... a lot like what they usually do, actually. Ironic, given Lance's adamance about making tonight  _ special  _ and  _ different. _

But you know what? Maybe tonight doesn't need to be different to be special. Maybe things with Keith are just  _ that  _ good, where every time they're together, it's just as special as the last.

Keith settles further into Lance's laps, turning a little to his side and tangling their legs together. He has his phone out, fingers barely poking out of the long sleeves of his hoodie to hold the screen to his face as he reads a New Yorker article Lance sent him about that Netflix show where Gwyneth Paltrow spouts pseudoscience. Lance realizes that for the past approximately ten minutes, he himself hasn't been doing much besides staring at Keith. He's been lazily stroking his arm, playing a little with his shaggy hair, and just... appreciating everything. Sure, he still feels  _ slightly _ off colour thanks to his earlier mishap, and Keith is definitely looking just a  _ little  _ more flushed and tired than usual, but... It's still perfect. It's everything Lance didn't know he needed.

"Lance," Keith says, half his face nuzzled into Lance's baseball T. "Why do people say they’re not giving medical advice and then... give medical advice?"

"Oh?" Lance replies, distracted. It takes his brain a few seconds to actually absorb that Keith said something.

His boyfriend pauses, squinting up at him half-upside down on his chest. Lance raises an eyebrow.

"What're you thinking about?"

Lance blinks. "Uh, I dunno."

"You look confused," Keith adds. He sits up and twists toward Lance, the pleasant weight of him suddenly leaving Lance's front. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah," Lance breaths, leaning his head back on the armrest. "I'm great."

Keith's gaze feels hot on his face, studying him with what looks like a hint of suspicion.  _ Hah _ . Keith's cute when he's got his thick brows all furrowed.

"... You're quiet," Keith says, finally. "It's weird, you're — "

"I'm never quiet, yeah," Lance finishes, chuckling. "You say that like, every time I'm quiet."

"It's not often."

"It is, too." He smirks, running a hand along Keith's thigh. "I dunno, I just... I'm really fucking happy. It's hard to feel sorry for myself when I'm this happy."

"Hm?" Keith tilts his head. "You were crying on the bathroom floor, like, an hour ago."

"I know," Lance laughs. "Like I said, I'm too happy to stay pissed at myself. I almost don't regret fucking everything up."

Keith rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his features. "You didn't fuck everything up."

"Keith, I almost killed you."

"But you didn't."

"I drank too much — "

"So? You didn't die either."

"True," Lance concedes, smirking. He squeezes Keith's knee, pulling him back into a cuddling arrangement. It doesn't take much prodding for Keith to ease into it almost immediately, wrapping his arms around Lance's torso. Keith holds his gaze, eyes looking all bright and narrowed  _ ever so slightly _ . He smirks, holding Lance tighter.

"Hey," He says after a moment. "Wanna do stuff?"

Lance snorts. He's always found it hilarious that Keith's a grown ass man, and still calls sex "doing stuff." What an absolute dweeb.

"I dunno. I’m down but I'm not sure how awake I'm feeling after... y'know," he says, gesturing a little. "After all the things. I'm kinda beat."

"That's fine," Keith simpers. One of his hands immediately finds its way under Lance's shirt, holding steady around his waist. "You don't need to do anything."

Lance snorts. That's the biggest lie he's ever heard. After their three months of dating, Lance has been catching on certain things about Keith. Among those things, is how much of a bossy brat he can be in bed. It's almost like Keith needs to act a little impatient and a little reckless before relaxing and easing into it. One he does, though, he becomes the biggest pillow princess. It drives Lance  _ wild _ .

Suffice to say, Lance has been so into it that he's basically done all the topping.

The first time Lance gave Keith a blowjob (also known as the first time he  _ ever _ gave a blowjob), he completely went to town, letting himself do all the shameful things he'd dream about as a confused, horny, early-20s bisexual man who only  _ really _ accepted the whole sexual identity thing, like, five minutes ago. He blew the shit out of him, basically, and Keith was reduced to a sobbing mess.

It was  _ awesome _ .

So his point is, Keith doesn't top. He doesn't  _ do  _ the "doing."

"You never 'take care of it,' pillow princess," Lance snorts, ruffling Keith's hair. He scowls, blowing his bangs out of his face. "You don't need to do it if it's not your thing, babe. No worries."

Keith scrunches up his face. "What makes you think it's not my thing?"

Lance shrugs. "I dunno, you never top."

Keith's only response is a snort. He blinks at Lance in amused disbelief. It's... unexpected.

"No, Lance.  _ You _ never bottom. I top, sometimes. I like both."

"Huh?" Lance grunts, dumbly. 

"I figured bottoming wasn't  _ your _ thing," Keith adds. "You never seemed like you wanted to."

"Well," Lance replies, before letting his mouth fall shut. To be honest... Keith's kind of right. It's true he never  _ acted _ like he wanted to, but that doesn't mean he hadn't thought about it. Thing is, there's always been something a little...  _ too _ vulnerable about the act of submitting to someone in the most vanilla sense of the word. It's like you're laid bare in front of another person, completely at their mercy. It's scary, in a way. That doesn't mean it's not exciting, but... Lance had never thought about being  _ that _ vulnerable with someone.

His cheeks are definitely flushed, Lance can literally feel it. Keith huffs out a laugh, probably noticing. He reaches over, to grip the side of Lance's neck, thumb grazing against his cheekbone.

"We can try it?"

Lance purses his lips.

"No pressure," he adds. "But... I dunno. If you want to, I'd  _ love _ to take you up on it."

"You watched me get plastered today," Lance says, in lieu of a response. "You had an allergic reaction to the food I made. And we went to the hospital. And you  _ still _ wanna fuck me?"

"I've always wanted to fuck you," Keith answers him, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. What the _hell_?

"Really?!" Lance does  _ not _ squeak.

It earns him a laugh out of Keith, shaking his head at Lance in disbelief. "You're so  _ weird _ ," he breathes, leaning forward to bring his mouth to Lance's neck. "I'm gonna make you feel so good. You're not allowed to do  _ anything,  _ kay?"

"Alright, hotshot," Lance sighs, doubtful. He doesn't have much time to think about it, though, not with Keith nipping at his collarbone.

Why they always end up fucking on the couch, Lance will never know. They have not one, but  _ two _ beds between them, and for some reason, they always find themselves here. The number of times Lance has had to hastily wash the couch covers is... significant, to say the least.

"We're not fucking on the couch," Keith speaks into his chest, reading his mind. "I'm gonna need space."

Lance gulps, reveling in Keith rucking his shirt up and kissing down his abdomen, occasionally sucking hard enough for the pain to linger. He lets out a soft  _ fuck _ as Keith cups a hand over the bulge in his jeans, kissing down to his happy trail.

"I'm serious. Lance, we're not doing it here."

"Don' wanna move," Lance huffs, pouting and already half melted into the couch.  _ Huh _ . Guess the whole "submitting" part is coming a little natural to him.

"Come on," Keith insists, coming back up to kiss him, dragging Lance's lower lip back a tad as they part. "Let's fuck in your bed."

It works. They  _ do  _ end up in the bed before Lance can really process. Soon enough, He's lying back, arms splayed out as Keith toys with his belt, pulling it loose. He sighs, willing his legs to relax and spread apart further, making room for Keith to get comfortable between them. His pants are off before he knows it, boxer briefs following shortly after.

"Haaah — "

When Keith sinks his mouth down his dick, he lets his eyes flutter shut. It's not that he doesn't  _ want _ to watch Keith take him, but it just... feels right. It feels  _ good _ .

A hand secures itself around his shaft, one lowering itself until it's against his perineum, applying  _ just enough _ pressure to make things feel...  _ different _ . In all honesty, Lance never really gave much thought to his prostate. But he sure is now.

"M' gonna get some lube, kay?" Keith asks after popping off for a breather. "You ready?"

"Probably," Lance huffs, smirking. "No clue, really."

"So," Keith starts, putting some lube onto his hand. "You've never had anything up there?"

"Nope," Lance shakes his head. His eyes pry themselves open when he feels a cold finger press just above his ass. It swirls in a gentle circle, teasing slightly at his entrance. He flinches.

"I'll be gentle," Keith smirks. It  _ should _ feel condescending, but Lance really can't bring himself to care right now.

Keith's finger breaches the entrance, lingering just below the surface. Lance squirms a little at the intrusion, not quite used to it yet. After a reassuring word or two and a couple kisses to Lance's knee, Keith silently asks whether to continue. He's met with only a nod.

"Push out, baby," Keith breaths, lowly. And...  _ fuck _ . Lance has never wanted to be stepped on so badly.

He literally  _ whines _ when Keith pushes in further. It's a sound he's literally never heard come out of his own mouth. Kinda embarrassing, really. Also, Keith's literally never called him "baby" before.  _ No one  _ has. So that's... weird.

Good weird. Fuckin'  _ great _ weird.

He does end up "pushing out" — or, doing something close to it. Honestly, all of this is so out of his realm of experience that he can't really be sure he's doing anything right. That being said, he can't really find it in himself to mind at all.

"I'm gonna move it a bit, kay?"

When Lance opens his eyes, Keith is hovering over him, propped up on one elbow while his other arm snakes between Lance's legs. It's a fucking divine sight. So completely captivating, in fact, that making words is getting more and more difficult.

He nods instead, eyes locked on Keith's.

"Lance? Talk to me."

"I — " He sighs, pushing a little further against Keith's finger. "It's good. You can... you know."

Keith smirks. "You like this."

He  _ does _ . Fuck, does he ever.

"Shut up," Lance manages in a huff, his cheeks feeling a little warmer than before. He doesn't have much time to revel in his embarrassment, though. Because Keith is leaning in to kiss him, and moving his finger in tandem.

"Mmmf — "

It's...  _ full. _ Lance never really understood what Keith meant by that, when he'd describe what anal feels like. But there's no other way, really. It feels like Keith's massaging him from the inside, with deep undulating waves of pleasure moving through the rest of his body in response. At one point, Keith hits something really  _ good _ that sends him completely soaring, breaking their kiss to sigh up over his head, face pinched.

"That good?" Keith asks, his voice crackling more than before. When Lance looks back at him, his face has that distinctive sex drunk look that Lance has seen on his own face when topping people in front of a mirror. He thinks of how Keith looks when he's inside him, and how his face looks all spent and out of breath, and Lance genuinely hopes he looks at least half that good right now.

" _ Fuck yeah _ ," he sighs, and Keith does it again.

It's more rhythmic now, Keith pumping a finger in and out of him and kissing him between thrusts, Lance raising his legs off the ground and folding them towards him for easier access. Keith holds the one that's closest to him, occasionally kissing Lance's knee.

"I want another," Lance says after another minute.

"As you wish," Keith smiles against his mouth. And  _ holy shit _ , if he couldn't get more perfect — "

"Did you —  _ aah _ ," Lance pants as Keith slips himself out to add more lube. "Did you just quote  _ The Princess Bride _ ?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Keith replies, smirking.  _ God _ . What an  _ ass _ .

"You totally di — Haah!"

He thrusts back in, a little less gentle now. Lance is grateful for it — he's not sure he could have taken the same slow teasing they went through before. This time, it's even fuller — his ass clenches around Keith's fingers, still not completely used to them. But it's  _ really good _ . It's unlike anything he's ever felt before, and he's completely drunk on it.

"You look so good like this,  _ fuck _ ," Keith breathes, kissing him.

"I — hah — I always look good," Lance barely manages.

"Sure you do."

"H-hey!"

"Relax," Keith laughs, kissing him again.

He fucks Lance in earnest now, rhythmic thrusts of his hand that hit that spot inside of him over and over, his thumb trailing behind his balls for a little extra sensation. It's overwhelming now — as much as Lance would love to keep being a smartass to avoid making himself vulnerable, he doesn't really have it in him anymore. Instead, his mind is a constant stream of  _ fuck yes yes keith fuck,  _ some of which  _ must  _ be coming out of his mouth in some form. Honestly, it feels a little too good to care about what he might sound like. It feels too good to do  _ anything _ .

"Holy  _ shit,"  _ he hisses, before moaning once more as Keith takes a particularly deep thrust into him. " _ More _ ."

"... More?"

"Another finger," Lance pants, cracking an eye open. It takes all the effort he has, but he doesn't want to let the opportunity go to waste. Going in, he was completely okay with the idea of just taking it easy and letting Keith finger him to make him come. But now... fuck it, honestly. They may as well go all the way. It's a special occasion, after all.

"Another finger," Lance sighs. "And then... you know."

"Hm," Keith mutters, thrusting into him again. Lance keens, chin jutting upward to the ceiling. "No, I don't know what you mean."

" _ Keith —  _ "

"Tell me what you want," he insists, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. Holy  _ shit _ , Keith's the most fucking annoying top ever. It's  _ stupid hot _ .

" _ Fuck me —  _ "

"I'm already fucking you."

"Ugh! No! Like, with... you know!"

Keith slows to a stop, pausing mid-thrust. When Lance finally looks at him, he's... puzzled, apparently. As if they weren't just in the middle of doing the hottest shit ever.

Keith blinks. "What?"

"Fuck me with your dick, Keith!" Lance yells, exasperated. He doesn't even sound sexy anymore, damn. Only impatient.

"You want me to — "

"YES!"

"Really?"

"UUUGH!" Lance groans, running a hand down his face. Keith's still leaning over him, two fingers deep in his ass, looking completely bewildered. "Yes, really!"

"I just..." Keith furrows his brow, blinking down at where they're attached. He's probably kind of stuck, pulling out always seems like such a production.

"I didn't think you'd be up for that. Like, tonight at least."

"Why not?"

"I just... I dunno, isn't this new? For you?" Keith blinks up at him, all earnest and soft. And  _ damn _ , it's not like Lance can't melt at the sight of it. "You don't need to feel pressured to go all the way, like... if you haven't thought of bottoming before tonight. We don't need to do everything, yet."

Wow. Okay, so Keith's both hot as shit  _ and _ a gentleman. An incredibly stupid gentleman, but a gentleman nonetheless.

Lance huffs out something between a sigh and a laugh. He reaches up, kisses Keith once, twice, and holds his face in place close to his own.

"I've thought about bottoming before tonight, babe. I've wanted you to fuck me for  _ ages. _ "

Still a little bewildered, Keith finally quirks his mouth into a smile. "Yeah? You never said anything."

"I was probably insecure about my masculinity, or whatever. But it's fine, I'm not now.  _ Please _ rail me into the mattress."

"Okay," Keith laughs, grinning wider. He kisses him, languid and slow, his finger slowly picking up where it left off. When they pull apart, Lance pushes as he slips out, and he adds more lube to his hand. 

Two feels a  _ lot _ more intense. Keith does this thing where he gets Lance's prostate  _ right _ where it's most sensitive, and a completely embarrassing noise leaves his mouth. It's like nothing he's ever heard before.

They move up to three fingers in no time. Lance is pretty sure he was practically begging for it, but honestly, his thoughts are  _ kind of  _ becoming a bit of a warbled mess at this point. He's breathing heavy, legs bent up as far as they can be while Keith leans over him between them and fucks into his ass, licking and nipping at his neck. One of his hands grazes up Lance's torso and thumbs at his nipple  _ just _ enough to make him sigh with pleasure. He feels the fingers move inside him, stretching him open as he pushes back in tandem, trying to at least share some of the work.

"Holy shit," Keith breathes when he pulls back, eyes almost glazed over. Lance can only imagine what he must look like right now — spent, probably a little sweaty, chest heaving with heavy breaths and hair a little matted from how much he's been writhing against the pillows. He's never seen himself in a position quite like this — but he can imagine what it must look like.

Based on Keith's expression alone, it must be quite this sight.

"You look so  _ fucking _ good," Keith sighs into his ear, his hand picking up its pace. "You're so hot like this,  _ fuck _ — "

"Haaah — " Lance moans, trying his best to push himself down further on Keith's fingers. "It's... it's good."

"Yeah," Keith laughs lowly. "You like it?"

"Mmm," he hums in response, savouring how full everything feels, how Keith is lighting him up from the inside out. It's  _ wild _ . Lance completely doesn't understand how he hadn't tried this sooner.

" _ Keith _ ," he hisses, using the feeble amount of strength he has left to tug at the hem of Keith's shirt. "I want — let's get naked."

Keith kisses his neck, pressing what feels like a smile to his skin. "You're already naked."

"Let's get  _ you _ , naked," he grits through his teeth. "I'm ready, I'm ready — "

Pulling out  _ is  _ a little bit of a production. They need to stop and catch their breaths, staring at one another and communicating with just their eyes before Lance shuts his own and pushes out, trying his best not to keep Keith's fingers on lock. Keith doesn't bother letting him help with the undressing (Lance  _ probably _ couldn't manage to help much in his current state, to be fair). Instead, he practically jumps off the bed and pulls off all of his clothes, clumsy hands fumbling with his button fly.

"Eager," Lance chides, melting further into the mattress. There's a lingering ache where Keith's fingers were only moments before, reminding him of how full he was, how great he's going to feel in only a few moments. It's hard not to be a little impatient watching Keith race himself out of his own clothes, but he's enjoying the sight nonetheless. Watching Keith go from layered winter clothes to stark naked, pale skin taut over muscle, dusted with black body hair under his pits and around his junk — 

" _ Fuck, Keith _ ," Lance whines, clenching his ass around nothing as his boyfriend brings his lubed hand to his hard dick, stroking it a couple times and thumbing at the head while he sets one knee on the mattress. He literally  _ can't _ stop staring at it. He wouldn't be able to stop if he tried, though it's not really like he's  _ trying _ at all right now.

Why would he? Keith's a fucking sight to behold, and Lance gets to get  _ fucked  _ by him, as if that's not the greatest gift he's ever received in his life.

"There's something I wanna do first," Keith mutters. And before Lance can open his mouth, he's leaning down and taking Lance's cock in his mouth, slipping three fingers back into Lance's hole.

Lance keens, nearly shouting in surprise as Keith's mouth tightens around him, his free hand reaching over to grip around his dick. He moves his fingers in tandem with his lips and tongue, sucking and licking at Lance's frenulum while thrusting those three fingers in and out, coaxing groan after groan out of Lance's throat. The combination of oral  _ and _ fingering has his nerve endings singing, completely overwhelming his senses with a relentless assault of pleasurable sensation. It's incredibly good, and incredibly  _ different _ from what he's used to — mostly due to how absolutely helpless Lance is at the moment, and how Keith has seized absolute control over him.

It also just  _ feels _ incredible. He's got no doubt it's this good thanks to the newness of it all. Lance savours it, hoping to remember  _ exactly _ how good he feels right now for at least his next couple solo sessions. Maybe he'll borrow one of Keith's plugs, or something. Maybe he'll get his own.

Keith pulls off with a slight  _ pop _ , still jerking Lance's cock and thrusting his fingers in and out. He slows to a stop, meeting Lance's gaze with a mischievous grin pulling at this slightly slickened lips. "Ready?"

" _ Fuck yesss _ ," Lance whines, incapable of making himself sound at all sultry and sexy at this point. Fuck it, honestly. Seems like Keith's pretty intent on completely wrecking him, so it's not like Lance has any sort of image to uphold.

He sighs, slightly petulant as Keith slips his fingers out. He watches intently as Keith lubes up his cock, slow and teasing as if Lance isn't about to fucking  _ die _ if that thing doesn't enter him asap. Keith is in no rush, apparently, tilting his head to the side and eyeing him with a curious gaze, one eyebrow raised.

"How do you wanna do it?" He asks, not at all rushed.

" _ I don't care, _ " Lance hisses, squirming a little. "Just fuck me, whatever."

"Oookay." Keith rolls his eyes, falling forward onto one elbow and positioning himself between Lance's legs. He sighs, rubbing his dick over Lance's hole once, twice, and again. Lance inhales sharply at the feeling — it's foreign, completely different than how Keith's fingers felt. It's wet, warm, and distinctly  _ dick-like _ in a way he literally can't find alternate words to describe.

" _ Shit, _ " Lance breathes, trying his damndest not to shut his eyes. He doesn't want to miss the look on Keith's face when he starts.

Turns out, it's the best decision he could have made. When Keith  _ does _ push forward, slipping the head of his slickened dick into Lance's ass, he lets out a puff of air and his eyes gloss over. It's  _ intoxicating _ , watching Keith's abdomen clench and unclench as he lowers himself further to give Lance a quick kiss before silently asking whether he can keep going. Lance nods, eyes slipping shut of their own accord, and he remembers to breathe and push out as Keith soldiers on, slipping the thickest part of his dick through Lance's hole, further into his ass.

If Lance thought the fingers were overwhelming, having an actual dick inside him is something else completely. It's more full, more sensitive, even more pleasurable. He's barely conscious of the moans he's generating now, barely able to even wonder about what his own body's doing as Keith settles in further and leans onto his front, kissing him slow and soft, letting Lance get used to the intrusion.

" _ Good _ ?" Keith asks, voice completely gravely and choked. 

“ _ Fffuck _ .”

His eyes kind of roll back in his head and Keith’s face gets blurred a little. It’s  _ really, really  _ good in a way Lance can’t really describe given how much his head is swimming at the moment. When he regains his capacity to open his eyes, he’s met with Keith’s face hovering over his, eyes a little crossed and completely sex-drunk like he’s absolutely feasting on Lance’s form under him. 

Lance wants to tell him he looks all stupid and cute. But when he tries to open his mouth, there isn’t a sound that comes out aside from a faint sigh that seems to trigger a little breath hitch in his boyfriend’s throat. 

Keith moves, just a  _ little _ , and his breath hitches again, this time a faint puff of air following it and landing on Lance’s cheek. He moves slightly deeper again, and Lance heaves a sigh, unable to break eye-contact until the split second before Keith meets him in an open-mouthed kiss. 

Lance’s legs wrap around Keith next, finding it surprisingly easy to lock his feet together at his boyfriend’s lower back. Keith wraps his forearms around Lance’s head, hands weaving and digging into his hair a little, holding his face in place as they roll their tongues together. As the pace picks up, Lance feels pangs of pleasure, sharper and sharper still, undulating through his entire body from where they’re connected. It’s kind of  _ insane _ , Lance remarks as he wraps his own arms around Keith’s shoulders, fingers digging into the divets of his back muscles as Keith soldiers on, fucking him like the professional top Lance absolutely did not know he was. 

“You’re —  _ ah _ , you’re good at this,” he manages to huff out, open-mouthed against Keith’s neck. 

“You’re so  _ hot _ ,” Keith mutters in response, licking the junction of his jaw and neck. Lance feels it tingle down his spine. “You look…  _ so _ good —”

He’s not usually like this.  _ Usually, _ Keith’s the one receiving the brunt of the compliments as he devolves into a whimpering mess. Lance typically takes up the mantle on the praise, showering Keith with compliments and reveling in the feeling of making him blush. It’s definitely strange to be on the other side of the equation, but Lance… frankly isn’t complaining. He’s not sure he’d even be able to if he  _ tried _ , given how absolutely everything — his arms, his legs, his mouth, his nose, his  _ ass, _ obviously — is completely full of  _ Keith _ and pleasure-induced bliss.

Who knew bottoming could be such a soft, easy experience? Lance is honestly pretty glad Keith’s dick is super reasonably-sized, unlike his own ridiculously large one. It’s making for a pretty pleasant first time. 

“ _ Fuck _ , Lance,” Keith moans, hitting him at an even faster pace. Lance sees a trickle of sweat slipping down his neck and collarbone. “Wanna, uh… wanna change positions?”

It takes a second for Lance’s brain to catch up with him as he squeezes Keith’s body into his own like he’s holding on for dear life. When it does though, he barely thinks about it at all and says the first thing that comes into his head. 

“D-doggy?” 

Keith slows to a stop. He blinks once, twice, his eyes faintly stupid-looking. It takes him a moment to gather his bearings and actually make sounds come out of his mouth. Lance isn't complaining though — he kind of needs to take a breath too. Taking it up the ass is  _ hard _ work.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Lance pants, feeling his ass clench involuntarily around Keith's shaft.  _ Wow _ , okay, that's new.

Blinking down to where they're joined together, Keith thrusts ever so slightly forward and back again. "I dunno if I'll... if I'll be able to go this slow."

"You don't have to."

The words leave Lance's mouth before he can really think about it, and Keith's eyes snap back to his own before he even realizes what he said. Keith  _ really _ looks at him now, raking his eyes along his torso, hands reaching down to cup at his ass cheeks, and  _ fuck _ , okay. Turns out Lance has been a giant fucking bottom all along.

Damn. Switching is fun. Who knew?

"Yeah," Keith chuckles. "It's real fun."

"Huh?"

"You said that out loud," Keith points out, one eyebrow raised.

"Shut up," Lance mumbles, huffing. He attempts an experimental wiggle, not surprised to find that Keith is definitely still up there. He's not sure what he was expecting, really.  _ Wow _ , though. That's nice. "Flip me over, or whatever."

And he does. Not like,  _ gracefully _ , but Keith does manage a somewhat clunky little flip after taking a moment to pull out. It feels a little clumsy and  _ definitely _ kind of new, having never tried anything like this before. Lance feels a little strange propped up on his elbows and knees, ass in the air and completely on display. He closes his eyes, biting his lips together as Keith runs a hand over his ass and behind his thigh, the other gripping him at the waist.

"Holy  _ shit _ ," Lance mumbles, feeling the tip of Keith's dick brush against his entrance. It's not  _ weird _ , per se, but it's  _ different _ and nothing like how he thought this night would go.

Then again, nothing about this night went as planned. The "Plan" got derailed completely, somewhere in between the scallops and the emergency room.

"You ready, baby?"

Keith's voice sends complete shivers down his spine. Lance feels himself blush, so utterly not used to being called  _ any _ form of pet name, let alone " _ baby _ " of all things. He wants to retort with some kind of snarky comment, but can't really find it in himself to even try. Because the thing is, Lance kind of needed this. Maybe  _ he _ was the one who was high-strung and stressed all along.

Turns out, maybe Keith wasn't the one who needed to feel special tonight.

And with that realization right there, Keith thrusts forward gently and starts fucking him again. And this time, it feels like so much  _ more _ . Lance isn't quite sure what's going on — probably some combination of better prostate access, firm thrusts against the seat of his ass, and some sort of emotional turmoil brewing in his chest. His breath hitches with each thrust, a strange instinct to keep silent taking over. He worries as Keith fucks into him, harder and faster, that the dam will break and something new and discombobulating will come out. It's getting harder, though, to keep a lid on things.

"Feeling good?" Keith asks, sounding a little tentative. His voice is as laboured as it is soft — clearly, things are  _ definitely _ good on his end.

"Mhm," Lance replies, refusing to open his mouth.

"Tell me, please — "

"It's really  _ fucking _ good," he finally admits, a ball forming in his throat. When Lance blinks his eyes open to stare at nothing, he finds they're getting slightly wet.

"You can let go, Lance. It's okay — "

That's all it takes really. Only those few words, and Lance collapses forward, clutching at the pillow in front of him as Keith doesn't let up. The ball loosens, the dam breaks, and sounds he's never heard himself make before are pouring out into the pillow.

He loses track of things after that.

It's almost meditative — the faint, ever-present buzzing in his head goes dead, all sense of feeling occupied only by Keith's thrusts into his ass, filling it to the brim. He has absolutely no clue how much time passes before a distinct, deep churning pleasure is brewing in him, building and building higher — 

It's not enough, though. Not to tip him over the edge. He needs  _ more _ .

As if reading his mind, Keith falls forward, lips kissing the back of Lance's neck as he reaches around and wraps a spit-slick hand to his dick, grazing it lightly before putting it in his whole fist. Lance wails, fists tightening in the pillow case as he feels pleasure building and building and stars flashing behind his closed eyelids. The pillow feels a little wet — probably with a mix of tears and sweat.

Keith isn't letting up — he's thrusting quicker and quicker, making choked noises as he keeps his fist moving back and forth. He squeezes a little harder and Lance keens, heaving a couple choked sighs before the orgasm hits him like a complete freight train. It starts out strong, like a massive release, and continues in undulated waves, egged on by Keith's thrusts, still hitting him in  _ just _ the right place. He can feel it in his arms, in his legs, down to the ends of his fingers and toes.

"I'm gna — "

Keith doesn't finish his sentence. His hips stutter and his cock digs a little deeper, and Lance feels a puff of air at the back of his neck as Keith finishes with a loud " _ Hah _ ," one hand clutching at Lance's chest like he's afraid he'll run away. They both fall forward, still locked together, and heave simultaneous breaths into the pillow. It's unclear how long it all lasts, but Lance knows he'll need at least a few minutes to come back to his senses.

"You ok?" Keith mumbles after some time passes. His face is all sweaty and flushed, mouth parted with heaving breaths. He lifts a hand before Lance can even think of an answer, and gingerly pushes a strand of hair behind his ear. It's kind of a ridiculous gesture — Lance doesn't even have enough hair to merit doing that. But hey — turns out, Keith's a soft top, apparently. He likes giving it as good as he likes getting it.

Lance blinks his eyes open, willing away the sex fog. He meets Keith's gaze and searches his face, a wide lazy smile slowly settling onto his features. Lance has a feeling his own face is starting to look just as euphoric and stupid. Honestly though, it's completely merited. That was  _ great _ .

"Fuck yeah, babe," he replies somewhat belatedly. He laughs once, twice, over and over again despite the remaining tears in his eyes making their way down his cheeks. " _ Fuck _ ," Lance breathes, wiping at his eyes as much as he can while still pinned under Keith's body.

Taking it as a sort of cue, Keith slides out and rolls to the side, facing Lance on the pillow. Their legs entwine together as if by second nature, and Keith takes Lance's hand between them, casually linking their fingers together as he searches his face. He's grinning now — it's kind of hot but also makes him look like an idiot. Lance digs it.

"You killed my ass," Lance says, like a true romantic. He sputters out a laugh, pressing Keith's knuckles to his forehead and then to his lips.

"Nah," Keith replies, smirking. "You took it like a champ."

"Am I a power bottom now?"

"Definitely not, pillow princess."

Lance scowls. "HEY!"

"I love you," Keith adds, kissing his knuckles in return. "Happy Valentine's day."

"That's gay," Lance replies. It's all he can really manage, what with how much of an emotional wreck he is right now. It's okay though, there isn't a chance in hell Keith doesn't believe Lance loves him to the moon and back.

∴

Keith finds him on the balcony after coming back from the washroom. It'd be a lot nicer if it weren't so cold, but Lance managed to find a pair of good sweatpants, a thick hoodie, and a flannel to keep himself warm. He'd slipped on some wool socks as well, as well as a pair of extremely weather-inappropriate Adidas slides (don't judge — he's used to Montreal winters). It started as an effort to air out his room from the sex spunk, which turned into a very intense urge to breathe in fresh air in an attempt to get out of his own head.

Because the thing is, he's never done that with someone. Lance has  _ never _ been that vulnerable before. All of it, the entire night, was just a grand display of trust unlike anything he's ever done for someone before. And he doesn't just mean the bottoming — sure, that took a whole bunch of trust too,  _ obviously _ . It's not every day you get a dick up your bum for the first time.

What he means is, he was able to let himself be entirely real and raw with Keith. They experienced an entire spectrum of emotion, good and bad, over the course of only  _ one _ night. He let himself get angry, he let himself cry, he let himself get sick in their shared toilet all in front of Keith. Suffice to say, there are no secrets between them anymore. Keith knows what he's getting into now — all the clumsy, messy, chaotic displays of mutual affection that entails.

"You're so dramatic," Keith chides, joining him outside. He offers Lance a joint.

"Am not," Lance retorts, taking it.

"Yuh huh." Keith gestures a little with the bright red Bic lighter in his hand while Lance brings the joint to his lips. He cups a hand around the end and lets Keith light it, inhaling deeply. "I bet you were doing the thing where you over-analyze everything about the last few hours and come to some sort of deep realization about yourself."

"I was  _ not."  _ He can't say it without grinning, though. Lance lets out a breath of weed smoke, chuckling. "Definitely not."

"Yeah you were." Keith smirks, taking a hit of his own after Lance hands the joint back to him. He stuffs his free hand in the pocket of his oversized orange sweatshirt, evidently thrown on in a rush. His face is illuminated by only the streetlamps and the light from inside the bedroom, glinting off his pale skin and dark eyes like something out of a well-shot movie. Lance savours it; the view, the silence, the next hit of weed, and most of all, the afterglow. He can't find it in himself to pretend Keith isn't right — Lance  _ exclusively _ goes on his balcony to dramatically over-analyze things. He shouldn't be so surprised that Keith managed to catch on by now.

Still, it feels like a fitting end to the night. A lot happened, honestly. It's been a wild ride.

"So," Keith starts, bringing the joint back to his lips. He takes a deep inhale, his eyes surveying over the street below. "Best Valentine's day ever?"

That one earns him a sputtered laugh. Lance snickers at his feet, his face a little sore from grinning. When he looks up again, Keith's eyes are soft, mouth curled in a small smile.

Lance snorts. "Keith, that was the most fucked up Valentine's day ever. Seriously."

"Heh. Yep."

"It was perfect," he adds, slipping his own hand into Keith's sweatshirt pocket to lock their hands together. "You're such a chaotic mess."

"Takes one to know one," Keith replies, easy. "Glad we found each other."

"Took us long enough." Lance sighs, a grin still plastered on his face. It might be a permanent fixture at this point. "Worth the wait. One-hundred percent."

They're probably a little high by this point. It makes sense, given they're doing that thing where they stare at each other and time feels like it stopped. Lance isn't complaining. It's romantic.

"I love you too,” he adds super belatedly, realizing Keith had said it first right after they fucked. Oh well. It’s not like timeliness is their strong suit. 

Keith chuckles, evidently reading his mind once again. His face is soft, all relaxed, and his grin is wide. Keith doesn’t look like this often — Lance had only seen him this comfortable a small handful of times before they started dating. But since then, he’s seen it nearly every day. And it never gets any less magical. 

They do the locked-eyes staring thing a little longer, and Lance feels that distinct “I’m high and in love” feeling radiate out from his chest all the way to his fingers and toes. It’s an abstract feeling Lance has never  _ quite _ been able to put a finger on. But right now, after all of  _ that _ , it’s starting to get a little clearer. 

“Wanna cuddle and eat Doritos?” Keith asks, one eyebrow raised. That fond smirk doesn’t go away. 

It’s  _ luck _ . That’s what the “feeling” is. Lance feels lucky that  _ this _ is his life, and that  _ this _ is his person.  


“Fuck yeah, babe,” he replies, grinning. They high-five, miss, and try again. 

It lands. This time.

**Author's Note:**

> Phew, what a ride. I'm glad Keith didn't die. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this mess! I appreciate it. 
> 
> Say hi to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SirCumf), where I spend most of my fandom time nowadays, or on [Tumblr](https://sir--cumference.tumblr.com/)!


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